


How Not To Time Travel

by BlueLight333



Category: Time travel - Fandom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-14
Updated: 2017-11-13
Packaged: 2019-02-02 00:15:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12715839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueLight333/pseuds/BlueLight333





	How Not To Time Travel

First things first.  
  
Time travel is real, humans do discover it, I can't tell you when, and no I can't tell you what happened to Hitler for the 300th time, OK?  
  
Really I shouldn't even be committing any of this to paper but it is entirely possible that I will be wiped off the face of existence any day now so I figure I can toss a few rules out the window, (by the way that's still a no on the Hitler thing, quit asking).  
  
I suppose I will start in the beginning but being a time traveler and all the beginning is kind of a foreign concept, however I will try my best. ‎  
|  
This whole thing started with a new assignment. Standard type of stuff for my agency, drop in, correct a few timeline errors, have tea with the king of England, pop out in time for the game.   
  
The agency I work for primary goes by The Heavy Hand, or simply HH. I am a class 3 agent, top of the line and all that. All that designation really means is I have a knack for not dying. My specialty is "Red Orders" which translates into a reverse assassination, I stop historical figures getting assassinated.... Too early. The King of England as you would imagine came across my desk quite a bit, hence why I considered it such a boring fare that time.  
  
"You know the deal John, George the 6th, Nazi agent did his job a little to well, need you in there." Sighed my designator, he himself was a class 2 agent, office-work. He was rather bitter about that fact, however he wasn't trying very hard to break out of that rank, his gut, lack of general fitness, tendency to skip weapons training and general lethargy didn't really scream "high stress situations". His name was Sam, late 40s would be my best guess, perpetually dressed in a sweat stained white shirt tucked into khakis and whatever little hair he had left combed to the side, a redundant gesture in my opinion.  
  
He dropped the file across my desk in a rather limp manner, I opened it and saw pretty much the usual fare, old newspaper clippings proclaiming the tragic death of the king, crumbling morale of the British people, the power fumble that ensued leading to an allied loss of the war.   
  
"Alright I'll be right back, and hey, there's a box of doughnuts in the other room, try to limit yourself to just 8 this time alright?" I said standing up, flashing Sam a cheeky grin, he was not amused.  
  
"Oh well fuck you John, fuck you very much." He said turning around and stumbling back into his office.  
  
"Love you too buddy!" I shouted after him. My grin however faded soon as his door shut, the 40s are a deathly boring time in England, rationing, the music sucks and the nightlife is simply appalling what due to the whole blitz thing. I grabbed my coat off the chair and left my office.   
  
The halls of the HH building always seemed to me more like caverns than passageways meant for people, 10 foot tall marble columns leading to a ceiling made of pitch black tile, the floors made of polished walnut thudded and echoed under my leather boots. I was making my way to the supply office, as you would imagine you can't simply jump into the 40s with synthetic clothing, a smart watch and a cell phone. Not to mention a Mark 2 disintegrator, something humans don't invent until... You know what never mind.  
  
The halls were mostly empty, save for some class 1 personnel cleaning and doing maintenance. I found it rather patronizing they even called them class 1 "agents" basically its just maintenance staff  
  
I arrived at the heavy steel door labeled **SUPPLY** and pressed my palm to the center of it, the bio-metrics having recognized me opened up the door. Inside I saw what could only be described as an organized mess. Little drones hovered from shelf to shelf, sorting clothes by size and time period, the shelves stacked higher than most construction crews would advise, towering far beyond the capacity of human eyes, to the point where the only way I knew something was even up there was because of the blue lights on the drones.  
  
And, in the center of this quartermaster's nightmare was the most hardworking and most under payed member of class one personnel, Faye. Her frizzy red hair could be described as a mess on formal occasions, day to day it is better summed up as a loose hay bale. Her thick round glasses flashed with dozens of registration orders which she frantically swiped left to right to approve or deny, giving the appearance of someone trapped in a bee's nest. Her uniform, surely issued out as a crisp, white set of overalls with a sharp HH logo on the breast now resembled something a mechanic would begrudge wearing, covered in pen marks and grease stains, the white was now very much a scarce sight. Strangely enough, despite all that she was rather cute, the sort of cute not even weeks of 12 hour work could take away, delicate features lightly dotted with freckles, her pale complexion contrasted sharply by her dark green eyes all made up for someone who could be a knockout with even a minuscule effort.  
I knew better than to startle her when she was in such a state so I approached very slowly, the way one would approach a deer if they wanted a picture and didn't wish to spook it.  
  
"No, no, no, yes, Christ I need a coffee- No! No I didn't mean order a new shipment of coffee!" She muttered to herself as she sorted through orders, I lightly cleared my throat.  
  
"I'm not the coffee drone but I make a mean cup of instant." I said as calmly and as level as I could, again, hoping not to scare her. She nearly leaped out of her skin as she squinted beyond her glasses. Taking a second to focus her face lit up with something closely resembling a smile.  
  
"Oh hey John! Its been a while." She said with a strange tone, usually when she addressed anything, be it drone or human she used a high, fast pitch, as though she was trying to condense the amount of data she can send using her limited vocal range. Now she sounded... Almost calm, still highly caffeinated, but much slower than usual.  
  
"Oh yeah, 2 missions to the Russian revolution plus Sam has been riding my ass all month about field reports." I replied with an apologetic grin, Faye is probably the only person in this facility I would call a friend, I dearly wished I had more time to spend with her.  
  
"Which revolution?" She asked taking off her glasses.  
  
"The June one, man, even with laser weapons they needed help winning." I said with a heavy sigh.  
  
"Yikes, that bad huh? By the way my lunch isn't for a while but if you want you can wait here-" She began but I held up the file with a sad look. I wanted nothing more than to catch up but Sam would only be more pissed if I delayed and there aren't enough doughnuts in the entire space-time continuum to wash that away.  
  
"Oh..." She said with an almost hurt tone. She slowly put her glasses back on.  
  
"What do you need?" She asked switching them on  
  
"Well actually I was hoping you could help with that, I'm not great with the 1940s, England especially." I said sheepishly, man I was a dick, not only was I turning her down for lunch but I was asking for favors.  
  
"Tell you what." She said, a smile once again spreading on her lips.  
  
"I'll help you with that... But." She began, I braced myself.  
  
"First, soon as you get back you are buying lunch." She continued, I smiled.  
  
"And I pick where" She finished, my smile melted... bye bye savings.  
  
"Also, you bring me back a box of tea." She said, I opened my mouth in shock.  
  
"Oh come on you know I'm not allowed to take things out of the timeline and besides the whole country was on rations-" I began but she cut me off.  
  
"You stole all 4 of the 4 Musketeer swords, don't start giving me lip over tea OK?" She said with a chuckle.  
  
"I did do that yeah." I said with a rather proud grin.  
  
"Now, file." She said extending her hand, she took the file and opened it to the last page, in it was the acquisition order for a full, time accurate kit out, she tapped the order twice and it appeared on her glasses.  
  
"Well, Captain Smith of the Special Air Service." She took a second to nod at me.  
  
"You will need a full army deck out, so none of this." She said casually removing my disintegrator from its holster and tossing it.  
  
"Hey!" I shouted, she simply shushed me and handed me a revolver that shot actual bullets, I held it at arms length.  
  
"The fuck am I supposed to do with this?" I said with distaste.  
  
"That is the Webley MkVI, be proud, its one of the most powerful service revolvers at the time." She said reading off her glasses.  
  
This sort of vandalization of my personal property continued... down to my clothes, which I traded out for some itchy wool.... thing. Colored a dark shade of khaki with the standard shirt and tie configuration of most armies at the time. On my chest was a set of wings and a couple of medals, my pants tucked into a set of calf length, brown leather boots, which, despite my quips at the time I was definitely planning on keeping. On my head was a beret with a knife and wings insignia.  
  
"There, you almost look respectable." Faye finally sighed as I straitened up my beret.  
  
"I feel violated." I responded with a mortified tone.  
  
"Oh hush I only took away all your belongings, made you strip down and gave you clothes you don't like." She answered with a tone that almost sounded like she actually didn't think that was a big deal.  
  
"Right well when I get back I'll see how you like it." I said jokingly. She smiled and muttered under her breath what sounded like   
  
"Any time soldier."   
  
"What was that?" I asked suddenly looking up from buttoning my tunic  
  
"Hm? Nothing! Not a thing! You um, should go to the... Time.. Yenno the..." She stuttered.  
  
"The Temporal Chasm..." I finished for her.  
  
"Right! Yes! That! Go to that thing which is not in this room!" She responded, sometimes I worried for her ability to cope in regular human society.  
  
I proceeded to awkwardly pat her on the shoulder and walk out of the room.   
  
I made my way to the "Jump Room" as agents called it, mostly because in order to enter the chasm you have to jump into it... As if time travel wasn't already scary enough.   
The door to the chamber was... Kind of boring, and actually a little tasteless. Resembling a late 20th century cop office with a half glass, half wooden frame with tacky golden letters painted on saying: _Temporal Chasm._  
  
I opened the door and entered what could only be described as a cave.   
  
You see, we came across time travel rather by accident, on a deep space mining mission we found the Chasm, it was just sort of... There. And then, as humans tend to do we just... kept jumping into it after having messed with it a while. After about 453 casualties we figured out if we zap it with the right kind of radiation we can control which point in space-time it will spit you out in. After chipping off a couple of rocks from around the chasm we figured out if you shove it into the right device you get a portal back.  
  
Human science folks, never changes.  
  
I nodded to the attendant, Charlie. A generally apathetic administrator who's job was to issue return devices and log where and when someone goes.  
  
"Name." He said not looking up.  
  
"Seriously dude? We just had coffee together this morning." I said exasperated before replying.  
  
"John Doe, going to London, England, Earth, 1941." I said robotically. Charlie pressed a few buttons and the portal hummed a different tone than it usually does. We called this part "Tuning"  
  
"Please collect your return deivice and have a pleasant journey." He said as he had been saying as long as anyone cares to remember, with that same, bored cashier tone.  
I walked over to his desk and picked up the small brass pocket watch, standard configuration, it triples as a communicator to the headquarters, a return device, and actually tells decent time.

  
Having put it in my pocket I walked over to the break in the railing that was directly above the chasm. The chasm itself was.... It's difficult to describe but imagine a black hole, horrifyingly infinite, unimaginably dark and terribly intimidating. Now add a strong blue aura around it.

  
"What do you figure Charlie? Nice fun mission?" I asked trying to delay jumping.

  
"I'm sorry, they don't pay me to figure, have a pleasant journey." He said not even looking up from the game he was clearly playing under his desk. I sighed.

  
"Fine, be that way." I said and jumped in.

  
You may wonder what time travel feels like. Well, imagine yoga, we've all tried it at some point, imagine your first day of yoga. Everything kinda hurts and at one point or another every single muscle feels stretched beyond its limits. That is essentially the sensation of time travel.

  
Once I came out I stretched my neck and sighed, taking in air for what felt like the first time in ages. I looked up and saw a nice, clear blue sky, below that Big Ben and the standard British fare when it came to skylines. And as my eyes panned down I found myself staring down the barrel of a Lee Enfield bolt action rifle, wielded by a very nice looking sergeant.

  
"Identify!" He shouted, shoving the barrel closer. Looking just beyond him and his personal space violator I noticed more pleasant looking boys in khaki, beyond them was Buckingham Palace.  
  
 _Charlie you son of a bitch_ I thought to myself.  
  
"IDENTIFY!" He shouted again, I put on my best "I'm definitely not a Nazi spy that popped out of a magical portal" smile and put my hands up.  
  
I'm definitely gonna be late for that lunch.


End file.
